I kind of love them. They smell like him, feel like a hug I don’t have to ask for.
When I open my apartment door, I do a quick scan—checking for panties abandoned on the floor or half-empty coffee cups forgotten in the kitchen.
"What’s this?"
I turn to see what he’s looking at—and my stomach drops.
Oh no… no, no, no.
He’s standing in front of the painting I was working on before the New Year’s party.
"Luca…"
His eyes move over the canvas, his fingers brushing thick strokes of acrylic like he’s reading something in them. "Is my stare really this intense?"
It’s a portrait of him—his eyes even more piercing than real life. The background is red, yellow, blue… as intense and complicated as he is.
"It was… before. Not so much now," I mumble, arms crossed, shoulders hunched like I can shield myself from the secret that’s now out in the open.
"I look… tortured."
I step beside him, trying to see the painting through his eyes. "You’ve always been complex, Luca. Overwhelmed by life, even as a kid. These were the colors I felt when I saw you walking the halls back then."
He looks at me, concern shadowing his eyes. "Maybe… that’s how I felt," he says softly, touching the canvas again. "Until I met you. You were like light in hell, the only person who pulled me to the surface so I could breathe."
I rest my hand on his shoulder. "Why did you feel that way? What was the darkness?"
"I don’t know," he whispers, not meeting my eyes. "I’ve always felt alone, disconnected—from people, from my brothers, especially my parents. When you’re rough around the edges, people back off. But you never did. You challenged me, even enjoyed pissing me off."
I smile with him. "I just wanted your attention."
He looks at me, curious. "Really?" I nod. "I was clueless back then. I actually thought you hated me for a while."
I shake my head.
"We all have light and dark in us," I explain, pointing to the colors on the painting. "Sometimes we feel rage or lust,"—I gesture to the red—"and sometimes we’re so sad we can’t see beyond it." I move to the blue. "Other times the world lights up a little. That’s life, Luca. We’re supposed to feel all of it."
He takes my hand, laces our fingers, and steps closer. "Why?" There’s a desperate edge to his voice.
"Because if we didn’t know sadness, we wouldn’t recognize joy. If we never had darkness, how would we know what light even is? It’s all part of it."
Luca gives me a half-smile. "These are the kinds of things you said that made me fall for you, Em."
"Is that a warning?"
"Yeah. Keep saying stuff like that, and I won’t be responsible for what happens next."
Offices are meant for business, responsibility, and seriousness.
At least that was true before Emma Green walked in and flipped my whole damn life upside down.
Ever since what happened at my place on New Year’s Day, something shifted between us. The tension changed—morphed into something else—and now I let myself look at her a little longer. I smile when she catches me staring from across my desk, and she gives me that blinding, heart-stopping smile in return that leaves me brain-dead for hours. We haven’t told anyone what’s going on between us—not that she’s ready to call it anything—but I have a feeling some people are starting to catch on.
Like Brenda, for example.
Brenda… the most efficient and annoying assistant I’ve ever had.
Ever since she caught me flirting with Emma one too many times in the hallway, her whole vibe changed. Not so submissive anymore. Not so scared.
